


.cotton-candy charm

by sanchan06



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanchan06/pseuds/sanchan06
Summary: Pure crack!fluff one-shots, short and sweeter than strawberry shortcake, heavy on the Charm-el sauce. [Charm]
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Kudos: 35





	1. Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> A What if? fic where Charles is about to leave for Wales and has a case of noble idiot syndrome. Thankfully he comes to his senses when he realizes he can't be without a certain lamb.

======================

“Samara!”

Sam froze mid-step. She knew that voice. She’d recognize it a thousand miles away, striking her like a bolt of cold blue lightning.  _ No _ , she tried to think rationally,  _ It can’t- _

“ **Sam**!”

She turned abruptly, shock engraved in her features. Not once had he ever called her that, knowing the painful memories it brought him. It was impossible, a miracle, the one in a thousand probabilities seeing Charles race up the stairs towards her, disheveled, breathless and heartbreakingly beautiful. The familiar ache in her chest ramming at full force seeing the wild desperation in his eyes. 

Just as he was nearly within reach, Marshall stepped between them, her heart immediately screaming in protest. “What are you doing, Jones,” Marshall placed a hand on Charles’ chest to maintain some distance. 

“Trying not to make the biggest mistake of my life,” He countered, maneuvering past Marshall and into Sam’s waiting arms. 

“I thought you left,” Sam’s voice quivered, arms grasped tightly around his neck, “Your flight-“

“I never boarded,” Charles confessed, peppering kisses along her neck, her face, her lips, “I couldn’t leave, not without you.” He pulled away for a moment to gaze into the face he so dearly loved. “You said you’d go anywhere with me,  _ cariad,  _ does that offer still stand?”

Sam stilled in his embrace, the smallest ember of hope sparking forth, recalling that conversation, that fight where she gave her final ultimatum before he chose to walk away. “You said you didn’t want-“

“Not want, need,” Charles wiped the brimming tears from her eyes. “I need you with me, to be the first face I see when I open my eyes, to call me out and put me in my place. I want to take you to Llandudno Junction for fish and chips, and ice cream and hot chocolate to keep you warm," they shared a laugh, coming a long ways from their first not-a-date in the snug going over Ruminate, "I want you to meet my grandparents and visit their farm and show you the best place to see the stars and how the light looks just as the sun rises there. I need you, for now and always. I love you, Samara Young” He confessed, voice shaky with hope and terror, “And if I have to spend this life and the next making up for my stupid mistake, I will, so will you come with me?” 

A beat. 

A moment. 

A forever passing between them, Sam’s face nearly unreadable, eyes dark and focused.

“I already told you once didn’t I?” Sam gently bunted her forehead against his. “But if you pull this bullshit again, I’ll kill you myself Jones.” 

“I’m holding you to it.” Charles grabbed Sam’s waist and gently spun her around, her feet inches from the stone steps.

“So what made you come to this life-changing decision Jonesy?” Marshall interrupted the reunited couple with a pointed glare at the towheaded Welshman. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the texts I sent you?” Marshall waved his phone.

The texts in question were an image of Marshall and Sam in formal attire, a screenshot of an invite displaying the words,  _ Mr. and Mrs. Samuel and Samantha Young cordially invite you to the engagement of- _ , and a single message,

_ You missed your chance, so I’m taking yours _ .

Marshall grinned mischievously, “It’s all about knowing the right buttons to push.”

“Y-you,” Charles muttered upon realizing the shenanigans Ben pulled to bring him back to Samara, who he was beginning to suspect was also involved when he felt her body shake with suppressed laughter. “You too?” Charles lowered Sam to the ground, arms still linked around her small waist. 

She gave a sheepish shrug, “It worked?” She had helped Marshall compose the texts to Charles.  _ ’Look the guy’s an idiot, but it’s obvious he’s crazy about you,’ Marshall assured Sam on her last gambit, ‘But if this doesn’t work, nothing will.’ _ She was ready and willing to move past if this, the true final play, didn’t work. But oh, how she burned with hope. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” Charles conceded, forever at her mercy, “But is there really an engagement?” Pure instinct had taken over after Ben’s texts and he hadn’t stopped for a second to verify its contents.

“Yes, for Jay-Jay and Dr. Ruth,” Sam confessed, beaming so much she felt like starlight.

“You do look incredible, Bunty,” Charles twirled her around, the navy tulle curving around her body as the light caught on the sequins of her dress. Like starlight. “I’m afraid I’m improperly dressed.” He gestured to his dark blue sweater and black jeans.

“You still match well though,” Marshall complimented as he made his way inside the ballroom and waved, “See you lovebirds.” 

“Shall we join them?” Charles held out his arm to Samara, who pulled him towards a nearby alcove hidden away from view.

“In a minute,” Sam said, pressing his back against a tiled wall. “You have some making up to do.” Her hands wrapped around his neck and brought him close, lips nearly grazing his.

“As you wish,  _ cariad _ , as you wish.”

==============


	2. In a Pickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam encourages Charles to expand his palate. Late night drabble inspired by comfort foods.

“You’ve never had fried pickles before?” Sam asked, munching on the salty treat while sitting beside Charles in one of her favorite burger joints, Big Daddy’s Burger Bar.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure.” Charles replied, curiously eying said fried pickles in the paper-lined basket. It was Sam’s turn for restaurant not-a-date-but-really-date night and he was surprised when she brought him to a dive bar past downtown.

“Try some,” Sam offered, nudging the basket towards Charles while sipping on her strawberry-lemonade. “They’re salty, crunchy and vinegar-y, kinda like fish and chips!”

He did like fish and chips, deciding to go beyond his comfort zone and tentatively bit into the fried pickle. Surprisingly he enjoyed the contrasting tastes but was definitely something to be enjoyed in small amounts, the sour taste lingering in his mouth. “I think I need something sweet.”

Sam nodded, setting the lemonade down, “They can be pretty salty if you eat too many-“ her eyes widened when Charles tugged her forward and kissed her, his tongue darting out and tasting her cherry chapstick before sitting back, a smug satisfied look contrasting her dazed one.

“Much better,” Charles smiled, popping another fried pickle into his mouth. 


	3. Rock-a-bye-Bunty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some-bunty's caught counting sheep at the office (some fluff!angst cause salty goes with the sweet)

Sam’s eyes fluttered, adjusting to the dim office lights. She vaguely remembered going over the Indigineer proposal with Charles and then...then? Her thoughts barely coherent, drowsily warm with a pleasant weight on her chest, her fingers brushing through something feather-light and soft.

Her eyes snapped open, the realization dawning upon her when the weight shifted and whispered something she barely caught in Welsh, snuggling against her chest.

Sam mentally panicked trying to recall how she ended up under Charles-in Charles’ arms-Charles on top-Charles in her-office! Sam dispersed the naughty thoughts away, earlier recollections coming back to her. 

They were going over the proposal and Charles, Charles said he hadn’t been sleeping well, and he was debating whether to get some coffee from the break room. Sam cautioned against it else he stayed wired all night. _Just rest your eyes for a little bit,_ she had told Charles, _I should be done soon, and then you can drop me off at home._ Charles conceded and did as Sam recommended, dozing off several minutes later while sitting upright on the couch. Soon after, however, Sam started to drift as well. _A few minutes couldn’t hurt_ , Sam thought, closing her eyes and leaning against Charles’ shoulder.

She glanced down at the man on top of her, his breathing slow and soft, a man clearly and deeply asleep. Sam tried to shift from under Charles’ weight without waking him too abruptly. Heaven forbid her father see them like this if they stayed asleep until morning.

But as soon as Sam tried to wriggle away, strong arms wrapped around her in an iron-clad hold. And despite her various attempts to escape, Charles remained asleep as he was. She sighed, reluctant to shove him off. He looked so peaceful and content and...Sam would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying seeing this side of him, unguarded and relaxed. 

There had been a definite change in their relationship, their professional and personal lives shifting like lines in the sand with each passing day. They were colleagues. They were friends. But as she watched his sleeping face; the joy she felt at being privy to such a rare sight; how happy it made her knowing that every time she snuck a peek at the handsome Welshman, he was already looking back at her; how safe she felt when he secretly held her hand to give her comfort and confidence whenever she was nervous or uncertain in unfamiliar situations; was there something more?

Could she even hope for more? She knew where he stood when it came to relationships, commitment. He was still recovering, wounded from the fallout after his first marriage imploded. The man fled halfway across the world, leaving everything behind just to get away from his pain, his heartbreak. He told her to give her affections to another, less jaded man. Not a cantankerous old goat, he once described himself. 

But he also once told her, she gave him hope that people were true and faithful and wouldn’t betray those closest to them. With her free hand, Sam gently grazed her knuckles along Charles’ cheekbones, noting the unfair advantage he had with gorgeous long eyelashes shielding the crystal blue eyes she loved so much. Maybe she could hope for more. 

_Just five more minutes_ , she thought drowsily, running her fingers through the blonde strands. Just five more minutes where she could dream a little longer of being in his arms. 

Charles smirked, listening to Samara’s breathing grow steadier as she lay still. He would get up shortly and bring Samara home, not wanting to cut his life shorter by any means. He knew this was dangerous, precariously close to an edge that if he fell, there would be no return from. And in the morning, he would have to reinforce the boundaries that kept him and those around him in line.

Colleagues.

Friends.

Just friends.

But for now, as they lay together, he was blissfully content and would permit himself to dream just a little longer in the dark.


	4. Some Like it Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First there's sweet, sour, salty, and now spicy (Which Charles doesn't handle well. At all).

‘ _This is it_ ,’ Charles thought as he grasped the glass beside him and began to drink deeply. Karma coming full circle to end him where he sat, ‘ _At a ramen shop of all places_ ’ He thought just before Samara cautioned him that water would only make the burning worse (which of course it did as the flames shot down into his gut). ‘ _Sweet Jesu_!’ He cursed as he began to hiccup, sweat continuing to pour down his face, his neck. Was there any part of him not on fire? Samara had asked for cold tea and a bowl of rice to help tamper the flames. 

“I’m so sorry Charles,” Sam apologized as she wiped the sweat from his brow and encouraged him to eat rice in small bites, “I didn’t realize how spicy it was last time I came here with Marshall.” 

This was not how he wanted the night to go at all, a sputtering, sweaty fool with tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. And these damnable hiccups!

When he asked Samara where she wanted to go for dinner, she had mentioned a ramen spot she enjoyed with Ben some time ago and well, he refused to be outshone by a Lawson so he agreed to try it, unaware that this particular spot was known for their ‘ **5-Star Super Spicy Hot Ramen**!’ Samara had ordered a 3-star bowl so he assumed he was safe with a 1-star bowl eying the other customers who had similar orders and appeared to not be in excruciating pain. 

Little did he know. 

Little did he know. 

Sam was nearly halfway through her bowl and was considering asking for extra noodles when she saw the usually pale Welshman tomato-red with beads of sweat sliding down his glasses. “Charles are you-“ 

Charles held up a hand, trying to maintain his composure, “I’m fine Samara,” And failing spectacularly. He tried taking another bite of his ramen but as soon as the noodles slid down his throat, klaxons went off, fire sirens roared or was that the ringing between his ears?

“No, you’re not,” Sam signaled the waitress asking for a bowl of rice, cold tea and a glass of milk if they had any. The waitress admitted they didn’t have any milk but there was a boba shop next door. After the waitress returned with the tea and rice bowl, Sam instructed Charles to keep eating the rice while she ran over to the boba shop next door to get some milk tea. 

Nearly an eternity later she emerged with two milk teas and handed one to Charles. Unfortunately in his haste to cease the fire in his mouth, lungs, brain, he forgot about the boba, nearly choking on the tapioca balls and spilling milk tea down his shirt when Samara rushed over to pat him on the back.

“I’ve made a-hic complete-hic mess of things,” Charles continued to hiccup despite the flames in his throat subsiding, feeling as pitiable as he must’ve look, “I’m-hic-sorry B-bunty,” he paused, looking at Samara and seeing her lips twitching in an attempt not to laugh.

“Oh Charles,” she giggled, tiny fits trying to escape as she handed him some paper napkins to soak up as much of the milk tea off his shirt. Another waiter returned with some towels, assuring the couple that this sort of thing happens all the time with running tallies on most spectacular fire ramen fails. (Although Charles’ attempt would go down as one of the more spectacular ones but he didn’t need to know). 

“You’re wonderful,” she assured him, kissing his brow while wiping him down drying with a towel. Seeing him flustered and totally out of his element for once, Sam couldn’t help but think how adorable he was; all sulky glare and pouty face, “You’re just s-so c-cute-“ She dissolved into giggles, laughing so hard she began to hiccup as well.

They stared at each other, hiccupping in unison for several moments before laughing at the absurdity of their situation. If it was anyone else, Charles might’ve brushed off the dinner as a spectacular failure. But looking at Samara, there was no one else he would rather be with. 

“How about ice cream?” Sam offered, trying to salvage the night as they paid for their meal and offered their thanks to the restaurant staff. “And a promise to warn you about any spicy foods next time.”

“And I’ll promise to listen.” Charles smiled, clasping his hand around Samara’s offered fingertips. “But next time, I pick.” 


End file.
